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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27220594">You're a bullet in a loaded gun</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalsavage/pseuds/scandalsavage'>scandalsavage</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, Deathstroke the Terminator (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Blood and Injury, Caning, Cock &amp; Ball Torture, Dom Slade Wilson, Dom/sub, Evil Slade Wilson, Fucked Up, Gun Kink, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Minor Jason Todd/Rose Wilson, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, SladeRobin Week, Sub Jason Todd, Subspace, Violent Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:14:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,408</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27220594</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalsavage/pseuds/scandalsavage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Slade meets his daughter's new sub is not the first time Slade has seen the boy.</p><p>The first time Slade meets Jason Wayne, Rose's sub, <i>is</i> the first time he decides he wants the boy for himself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jason Todd/Slade Wilson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>143</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>SladeRobin Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>You're a bullet in a loaded gun</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Late entry for day one, Dom/Sub AU and Reluctant Soulmates. Sudden inspiration that came late yesterday. I did this instead of my job today 😂 so... you know the drill... not edited.</p><p> </p><p>Heed the warnings and tags.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time Slade meets his daughter's new sub is not the first time Slade has seen the boy.</p><p>All of Wayne's kids are as well known to the world as Wayne himself and just as well known as doms. Slade may be more familiar with the oldest, third, and youngest boys, but if he'd had to place a bet on which person in the family was hiding a designation of submissive, it would not have been the second.</p><p>Publicly, Jason Todd is loud and outspoken, opinionated and convicted, articulate and firm in interviews. He never cedes ground unless he knows he can reclaim it in another way but always remains approachable. The picture of the modern dominant.</p><p>It makes the fact that most of his interviews center around his work with abused subs suddenly take on a different light. As well as the boy's campaigning for strengthening laws that would better protect the designation from doms who would take advantage, and advocating for harsher punishments than the usual slap on the wrist for abusers. Especially in soul bonded pairs.</p><p>The first time Slade meets Jason Wayne, Rose's sub, <em>is</em> the first time he decides he wants the boy for himself.</p><p>Seeing a man like that, tall and thick with muscle, used to commanding rooms and audiences and hearts, heel at his daughter's feet makes something Slade thought had died long ago stir again, deep inside him.</p><p>Someone that buttoned up, someone who has to keep his own nature locked up tight so no one can see...</p><p>Slade would bet everything he has that this boy falls apart beautifully.</p><p>"Obviously you can't tell anyone," Rose says sternly.</p><p>"Sure, sure," Slade says, waving her off.</p><p>Jason's eyes are bright, robin egg blue, and they don't look away from the one of Slade's that remains until Slade smirks and turns away himself to lead them to the sitting room for drinks. Not many subs <em>can</em> hold eye contact with a dom for any length of time, and even fewer would want to.</p><p>The sheer nerve on this kid has Slade practically salivating. He has very specific tastes. The last time he met a sub like this, he married her and their relationship was relatively brief but all fire and passion and hunger. It was doomed from the beginning, from the very first time she <em>finally </em>submitted and they knew they weren't soul bonded. But it was good until it wasn't.</p><p>Then there was Grant. Just like his mother, strong and insolent and stubborn. Jason reminds him of his dead boy too.</p><p>Through the whole evening, he's not particularly subtle. He barely takes his eyes off the kid. To the point where it's clear Jason is annoyed and uncomfortable and Rose is scowling.</p><p>She pauses in the doorway after Jason, with a final glare at Slade, makes his way to the car.</p><p>"I swear to god, Slade—"</p><p>"Relax," he says, tucking a strand of pale hair behind her ear. "I was just surprised. And he's even easier on the eyes in person. I'll be less creepy next time."</p><p>Rose cocks her head and narrows her eyes like she's trying to take his measure. After a moment, she gives him a hesitant smirk. "If there is a next time."</p><p>He waves as they drive off.</p><p>There will definitely be a next time.</p><p>For him and Jason anyway.</p>
<hr/><p>Kidnapping a public figure like Jason Wayne shouldn't be as easy as it is. Sure Slade was special forces once upon a time, but he'd been retired forever and one would think that the security around one of Gotham's princes would be a little stronger.</p><p>He hardly breaks a sweat.</p><p>The safe house he dusted off from his old days — the days <em>after </em>the military — is buried <em>deep</em>. Rose, Wayne, anyone they might hire... no one will ever find it.</p><p>The drug he shoots into the kid, Downer, is actually a legal, over the counter scene aide. It's one of the many things Jason fights to change, how readily available something so dangerous to subs is. Slade finds a thrill of pleasure at the thought that it will help him push Jason down.</p><p>Slade would prefer their first time together be the slow way, the good way, the <em>fun</em> way. The way where he wears the boy down, slowly, chips away at that stubborn resilience and earns that submission. But he knows that'll be a challenge. He'll do it, of course. But he's too impatient to wait this first time. It's been months since that first dinner. There have been others since then. Other dinners and lunches and events where Slade goes against every instinct in his body and convinces them both that the first was a one off. All to put some distance between himself and suspicion.</p><p>But now the kid is on his knees, stripped, hands tied from wrists to elbows behind his back, spreader bar strapped to his ankles. Long lashes flutter as heavy lids drag up over those brilliant eyes, already glazed from the drug.</p><p>Jason tries to raise his head, to look Slade in the eye, but the Downer overrides the urge, making his chin drop back to his chest.</p><p>"Slade..."</p><p>It's muffled and slurred through the chemically enforced subspace but fucking hell. The kid still manages to call him by his first name. Not ‘daddy’, or ‘master’, or ‘sir’... hell, not even the ‘Mr. Wilson’ the boy has been using to address him.</p><p>It's infuriating and thrilling and he can't wait to take the kid apart. To find his limits. Then push past them.</p><p>Subs like this, the ones who fight and demand to the point where they seem like they have a dominant streak? The ones who rail against "abusive" doms? They're just scared of their own nature. Terrified of the fact that they <em>need</em> a stronger hand. That they <em>need</em> someone to <em>break </em>them. That deep down, they're the most pliant of submissives. That they want <em>desperately</em> to be good subs, but there are so few doms willing — <em>capable </em>— to go the distances they need.</p><p>"What... what the h-hell..."</p><p>The back of Slade's hand cracks across the kid's face so hard the sound echoes through the basement of the safe house and blood drools from between split lips.</p><p>A delayed gasp, followed by a shaky exhale, bright eyes squeezed shut as the boy tries to steady himself, brings a smile to Slade's own lips. He knew he was right, but it's still nice to be <em>proven </em>right.</p><p>The kid’s a pain slut.</p><p>Roughly taking Jason's chin in the tight grip of one hand, Slade jerks the younger man's face up, thumbs the blood across lips he can't wait to ruin, painting them red.</p><p>"You'll call me 'sir', boy. And you'll speak only when I give you permission."</p><p>Heat flashes across those eyes, bright blue fires that seem to burn away some of the haze. Jason's trying to claw his way to the surface, even with the drug. Interesting.</p><p>Grant used to fight his way back up too. Slade is very skilled at shoving disobedient subs back down.</p><p>He's missed it.</p><p>He's already stepping to the side, twisting his fingers in the thick black curls on the boy's head, when the brat stutters out a "F-fuck." And has already used that hold to throw him face first onto the concrete floor before the "you" comes out.</p><p>The kid makes a pained grunt when he can't stop his already purpling face from hitting the hard surface, and sputters and spits out more blood through ragged breaths. Slade takes the moment to admire the spread of the boys legs, held open by the bar even as he tries to bring his knees together.</p><p>Slade steps between them. "Say 'yes, sir'."</p><p>He gives Jason a moment to catch his breath. Grins at the quiet, "Go... go to... hell", raises his heavy booted foot, and slowly steps down on the boy's balls.</p><p>A gasp of pain turns into a cry turns into a scream as Slade applies more and more pressure. He lets up right before he actually ruptures the testes and not a moment sooner. Soaks up the beautiful sound of thick, wet sobs, and wonders if Jason has ever had anyone do this for him.</p><p>Doubtful. Or the kid wouldn't be so pent up.</p><p>Then again. The sub's activism had kicked into high gear after a rumored (as in only reported in the dingiest of tabloids) dom/dom relationship with the much older competitor of his father's, Roman Sionis. And Slade's heard all sorts of things about the kind of dom Sionis is.</p><p>So maybe he's not so new to this kind of thing.</p><p>Lifting the bound arms out of the way, Slade plants his knee in the small of Jason's back, making sure to put most of his weight on it, grabs hold of the boy's hair again and yanks his head up.</p><p>Beautiful. The tears streaking down a suddenly very young looking face, almost cherubic with it's softened, youthful lines and reddened cheeks (if it weren't for the blood), has made those eyes somehow even more vivid against the bloodshot of the whites. Even though the dilation is wider, the glaze thicker.</p><p>Slade smirks as the brat tries to choke down some air with the dom's substantial weight compressing his lungs and belly.</p><p>"Say 'yes sir'," Slade repeats, close enough for Jason's strangled puffs of air to spread across his face and flutter his hair.</p><p>The boy's lower lip trembles and he doesn't surface at all. If anything, Slade thinks he sees the kid slip down even deeper. But the stubborn little bitch <em>still</em> manages to roll his eyes away from Slade's and spit blood and saliva onto the floor with <em>just</em> enough force that Slade knows it's aimed at him.</p><p>Slade laughs, taking in the promising shudder that wracks through the boy from head to toe, and nips his ear before rising.</p><p>The dom in him <em>sings </em>when the shrill, wicked sound of the long, slender, flexible rod Slade retrieves slices through the air menacingly and the trembling, naked body on the floor stiffens.</p><p>He waits for a beat, letting the silence soak in, watching all the boy's muscles tense and contract even tighter in dread.</p><p>Then he swings down with all his considerable strength, whipping the switch across the soles of the kid's feet. Jason has barely managed to suck in the breath he needs to shriek in agony before Slade's brought the tool down twice more over the small surface area. Thrice more draws blood and a handful more ensures the little shit won't be walking (or, more importantly, running) any time soon.</p><p>By the time he moves on to the thin, sensitive skin of the sub's thighs, Jason's mouth hangs open in a silent, breathless scream. He waits until those thighs are streaked red and raw, before giving the kid just enough time to drag in a single wavering breath between shuddering sobs (doesn't want him passing out and undoing all Slade's hard work), then beats that perky, perfect, rounded ass bloody to the sweet music of his bratty sub's screams.</p><p>Even Slade is a little winded when he finally tosses the cane, little flecks of bright red dripping from it, aside. With the Downer in his system, this should be more than enough to make the willful slut finally submit.</p><p>But he knows the moment he pulls the kid up by his hair again and forces him to sit back on his brutalized haunches, that despite the agonized whimper and gurgled hiccups, despite the fact that Jason has absolutely sunk fully, deeply into subspace, he's still fighting.</p><p>"What's my name?" Slade asks slowly, in a low, threatening rumble.</p><p>Patiently, Slade waits out the sharp hitches in the boy's breath, content to watch all the small ways Jason tries to find the means to answer. The way his chapped, dry lips cling together as he opens his mouth, the way those long, thick lashes flutter, glistening in the low light from the wetness of tears that cling to them, the grimy streaks those salty drops made while pressed to the dusty concrete, the beautiful mottled bruising, already lurid purple and yellow and red across one side of his face.</p><p>The sub's eyes remain downturned, focused on the floor, as his lips work. He whimpers when he swallows, throat obviously raw from screaming, and Slade smirks at the knowledge that he'll soon fuck it rawer.</p><p>Jason stutters out a sibilant sound that, for a brief, bright moment, Slade thinks might turn into the word he needs to hear.</p><p>Then "Slade" is rasped out in a broken, dry whisper and the retired mercenary frowns. He narrows his eye at the violently shuddering, absolute bitch of a sub as the kid sways precariously on his knees.</p><p>He has all night, and he does <em>revel </em>in the challenge. But he's fucking riled up now and he expected to be buried in that tight ass already. It's getting hard not to just say fuck it, and take the kid against his will.</p><p>Slade walks to the far side of the room, nearest the stairs, leaving the sub panting heavily. The further away he gets, the harder the boy breathes until he's nearly hyperventilating. Slade takes no small amount of satisfaction from the fact that some part of the brat recognizes Slade as his dom. Jason is down as far as Slade's ever seen a sub go, far, <em>far </em>beyond the point where any other sub Slade has ever dommed submits. But like any other sub, when they've sunk into that headspace, the sudden absence of their dom, even one they don't respect or feel is abusive, will eventually result in drop.</p><p>That's the last thing Slade wants right now. But he's happy to let the threat of it scare the kid deeper.</p><p>The item he retrieves from his duffle is <em>not</em> one he planned on using. At all really, but certainly not for this. But if this doesn't make the boy bend to his will, especially drugged, he's not sure anything will.</p><p>By the time he squats down behind him, the sub's breathing has mostly evened out by his presence, only the hitched quiet sobs that haven't stopped. Slade breathes over the nape of the boy's neck and watches as the skin breaks into goosebumps as he quickly cuts the bindings free. Jason is deep enough now, wounded enough, that even though he hasn't submitted, he won't be trying to get away.</p><p>He presses his lips to the soft skin under the kid's ear, savors the salty taste of sweat on his tongue, and wraps his left arm around the thick chest. Then he taps cold, heavy metal to the knob at the top of the sub's spine, lets the unmistakable shape and feel register, waits until the boy's muscles freeze and his trembling increases until it looks like he's going to rattle out of his skin.</p><p>"I don't want to keep punishing you, baby," he whispers into Jason's ear, lips glancing over the shell, as he traces the thick, wicked looking barrel of his Desert Eagle down the line of the kid's spine, path is marked by a glistening trail of lube. Slade's not a monster, the width of the piece alone is damn near the width of his own cock. But the front sight juts out harshly and the menacing notches of the accessory rails along the top of the barrel and the bottom of the slide are sharp and jagged. It's gonna be bad enough as it is.</p><p>Not that he slathered on the lubricant. He doesn't want to fuck up his third (soon to be first, probably) favorite handgun.</p><p>The barrel dips into the crevice of the boy's ass. Slade has to tighten the grip of his other arm when Jason tries to flinch away from him. The kid's shaky hands grip weakly at the thick forearm across his chest and heaves a great, breathy sob when he can't escape.</p><p>He tilts the sub forward, shushing gently into the boy's ear, as the muzzle of the gun slots against the tight pucker of his hole.</p><p>The mop of black curls, sticky and stiffened with wet and dried sweat, shakes back and forth as Slade lowers his torso back to the floor. But he doesn't make any verbal sound of protestation.</p><p>It smells like a victory to Slade. His order for the sub to not speak without permission appears to have settled.</p><p>But it's not nearly enough. The title is a fundamental, <em>foundational</em>, part of a dom/sub relationship. It's the bedrock on which the whole contract is predicated. Slade won't take the boy himself until the word is said, but it's clear that more extreme punishments for disobedience are needed.</p><p>So, when Jason is settled, once again weeping on the concrete floor, Slade leans back, pulls a raw, bloody, ass-cheek aside with his free hand, and pushes against the furled rim of the boy's hole.</p><p>The tip of the muzzle disappears easily, with only a slight wince from below. Then the sight catches and Jason wails as Slade forces it into him. His crying and screaming intensifies as each notch tugs and cuts lightly at the sensitive skin of his entrance and the passage beyond. Slade makes him take four of the top ones painfully slowly. The last time he got to stretch the more extreme extents of his dominance was far too long ago. Every whimper and whine and sob and shriek, every shake of those pretty raven curls, makes the usually caged beast inside him howl with the return of it's freedom.</p><p>With about half the gun inside the boy, Slade pauses to lean forward. "Be quiet," he growls, order heavy with intent. He grins when the kid's jaw snaps shut, teeth grinding together with the attempt to obey. The only sounds coming from him are choppy little choked noises as he tries to silence his tears. "Take your punishment like a good, submissive, little bitch. Be good for me, so I can reward you. I <em>want </em>to reward you for being good. But you need to be good first."</p><p>Slade has pushed him close to a drop. The repetition of the most basic expectations, helps get through the murky haze of the lowest depths of subspace.</p><p>Jason doesn't nod, or even acknowledge him in any way that would count for any other sub. But he squeezes those shattered eyes closed and curls in tighter on himself against the floor, almost nuzzling the hard, rough surface.</p><p>Refocusing his attention on where the gun disappears inside the boy, Slade gives a vicious shove and drives the remaining length, half a dozen more ridges, into the tight clutch of Jason's body.</p><p>To the kid's credit, it must be agony and he bites his tongue. Keeps his mouth clasped closed in a thin line, pale with how hard he's pressing his lips together. He still makes sounds. Of course, he does. The scream he traps in his lungs and throat, the cavern of his mouth... Slade can still hear it, muffled as it is.</p><p>He can still hear the bitten back sobs, the choked down whimpers, as he jerks the gun out and thrusts it back in with brutal strength. But the important thing is that the sub is trying his best to obey his dom's orders. The rest will come with training.</p><p>Besides, the sight of the boy's hole snagging on all those divots in the metal, the way the bumps on top are angled back and the ones on bottom are angled forward, giving him no moment free from the pull of his skin, from the scrape of them inside him. The way the trigger guard presses against the opening, pushing deeper and deeper the longer Slade fucks the gun into the kid. The looser he gets. It's mesmerizing. Made all the more beautiful by those aborted sounds.</p><p>Something wild and reckless inside him finds Slade flipping the safety off before he even registers the decision to do so, his finger tightening on the trigger.</p><p>To hold a subs life in his hands like this... he's never felt so powerful.</p><p>He pushes the barrel deeper, until the edges of the boy's hole are pushing at the knuckles of his trigger finger, taunting him, almost begging him to do it.</p><p>His finger flexes.</p><p>Slade rips the gun out of the kid, even rougher than when he was stabbing it in, and shakes the thoughts of how perfect and lovely and poetic it would be for his sub to die at his hands. Like <em>that</em>.</p><p>They haven't had enough time together. The stubborn little thing hasn't even officially agreed to be Slade's. Hasn't fully submitted.</p><p>But it's certainly a thought to keep in mind. For later. For much farther down the road. For when Slade is old and can no longer meet the needs of his much younger sub.</p><p>For now, though, he still needs to hear the words.</p><p>Pulling Jason back into a kneeling position is easier this time than the previous ones. The kid comes willingly, with only a hiss as he sits on his ruined backside. He keeps his gaze turned down, even when Slade tilts his head back with a finger under his chin.</p><p>For a lingering moment, Slade just enjoys the perfect submissive posture. Hands held limply in his lap, spine mostly straight but for the way he still sways, a little unsteady.</p><p>It was a rough first time. Slade finds himself torn on whether he wants the next ones to be harder or easier. There are certainly pros and cons to both.</p><p>"Look at me," he finally commands.</p><p>The boy's eyes flutter up to his as quickly as they're able when a sub is this far gone. The bright sliver of cyan glints wetly in the low lights around wide, dark pupils.</p><p>Slade watches the kid try to maintain eye contact through the thick haze of his down scene.</p><p>"Clean it," he growls, bringing the gun up to those cracked lips, reddened by blood. Slade wants them to be bruised too, and puffy from being stretched wide and smacked into.</p><p>Obediently, Jason flicks out his tongue, eyes never leaving Slade's face because he wasn't told he could look away, and licks a long, slow strip up the slide. When he reaches the guard, Slade takes his finger off the trigger, hooks it into the kid's mouth and toys with the hot tongue while Jason sucks around the digit. After a few seconds, he withdraws his finger and the boy begins mouthing along the barrel.</p><p>Transfixed, Slade watches as that sinfully dexterous tongue weaves between the notches of the top rail, laves over the front sight and the muzzle, curls around the bottom rail and starts dipping between the ridges there too. He angles the gun head on. Jason doesn't hesitate to let his jaw drop open, with just the smallest sound whimper of pain and flicker of discomfort across his bruised face, and swallow it down.</p><p>All without dropping his gaze.</p><p>"I knew you could be good, baby," he croons, reaching up with his free hand to cup the boy's face and stroke his thumb along Jason's cheek, while he guides the gun deeper down that eager throat. The safety is still off. Slade's finger is still on the trigger. It's still outrageously dangerous, even if the same mad desire that overcame him minutes ago doesn't return as forcefully.</p><p>There's still something untrusting in the boy's eyes. Slade is aware that he will have to work doubly hard to earn that trust after enforcing their contract in a way that is... <em>mostly </em>legal (except for the kidnapping part) but definitely no longer the norm. Jason will definitely view it as an abuse, instead of a dom seeing what his sub needs and giving it to him.</p><p>Sometimes a subs worst enemy is themself.</p><p>That said, as much as Slade would like Jason's trust, obedience is much more important.</p><p>"So good for me sweetheart," he repeats in a soothing, dulcet tone as the trigger guard presses against the boy's lips, barrel buried so far down his throat Slade can see the outline of it bulging the skin. Especially when Jason starts swallowing around it. Slade can feel that tongue twisting and caressing whatever bits of metal it can reach, almost loses his damn mind when the boy hollows his cheeks and sucks. It makes his declaration, "My good boy," drip with the satisfaction of an obviously pleased dom.</p><p>Something warm blooms in Slade's chest and a lazy heat flashes across the kid's eyes before they flutter. They don't close. Jason is a good sub and he wasn't told he could look away, but the lids quiver and his eyes roll back briefly. He moans around the gun, even as the flicker of distrust turns more pronounced.</p><p>Curious — and, frankly, ready to get that mouth around his cock and fuck that stretched out hole before he pops off in his pants — Slade slowly removes the handgun from the boy's throat and clicks the safety back on.</p><p>"Thank me for seeing what you needed and being a strong enough dom to give it to you. And do it properly."</p><p>There's no room for question or argument. What Slade wants from his sub is as clear as the command in the words.</p><p>Slade watches the bob of the kid's throat as he tries to work enough moisture into it to force his ravished vocal chords to make sounds.</p><p>"Th... tha-nk... y-ou," he rasps, voice breaking across every other syllable like a scratched record. "S-sir."</p><p>Fire erupts inside Slade's ribcage and spreads through his body. Not painful. Pleasant, in fact. A comforting weight settles deep in his heart and mind. And he doesn't know how he knows that that weight is Jason.</p><p>The kid gasps. It's ragged and too fast for the damage he did while screaming his lungs out. It sounds painful.</p><p>But this time Slade doesn't think the new tears budding in the sub's eyes are from pain. Maybe it's cruel, but Slade grins like a shark scenting blood in the water. He's elated. Nothing else matters anymore. Nothing can separate them now.</p><p>A soul bonded sub belongs to their partner for life.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you liked the fic, feel free to let me know!</p><p><a href="https://scandalsavagefanfic.tumblr.com/">My Tumblr</a> <strike>where I lied about taking a break from writing because I forgot about Sladin Week and I couldn't sit the whole thing out</strike></p></blockquote></div></div>
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